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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054428">grass stains.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckynoon/pseuds/luckynoon'>luckynoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Sports, Drama, Family Drama, M/M, Multi, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Romantic Comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:22:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckynoon/pseuds/luckynoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The next band didn’t immediately take the stage, and Donghyuck began to sing again without warning this time. It was an encore, but this time, they performed a song Mark knew well. He had written most of it. It was Jaemin who covered Mark’s verse, and he did so skillfully.</p><p>It was as if Mark had never been there.</p><p>They didn’t need him, and they never had.</p><p>That was what made him anxious about tonight. The irreparable damages between them aside, he could forgive. Hell, they could have replaced him, even. They had simply gone on without him, and he was as proud as he was hurt over it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. stack trar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>march 1999</p><p>“Oh, dude, Pikachu? That is...” Mark trailed off, leaning so far over the back of the couch that he nearly fell onto the top of Johnny’s head. He finished his sentence, though no one expected him to. The room was chaos as it was: music played loudly from Johnny’s radio where it rested on the floor beside his dresser. The door to the hallway was open, and it was a race day, and they had won, which meant that the hallway was alive. A symphony of boys’ voices breezed into the room, cheerful and spirited. Their rowdiness was a common, if not unwelcome undertone to the static and chatter that came from the radio. Beneath it all was the cheery, slightly off-tune 8-bit game music coming from the melon green device in Johnny’s hands. Mark leaned over the back of the couch on his elbows, angled his head slightly, and continued to watch Johnny play.</p><p>“I gotta buy one of these. Seriously.” Mark continued, and he knew that Johnny was listening even though he was rambling. Especially because he was rambling.</p><p>“Or you can just use mine.” Johnny told him in a tone that suggested Mark should have already known that. Mark shrugged, moving to the doorway. The hall was lined with boys—namely the college’s cross country team. Most of them lived in this same residence hall, and Mark had moved in at the beginning of this semester. After the almost fatally tedious process of meetings with advisors and financial aid, RA’s, a damn counselor—Mark was finally free of his old hall, and onto this one: hall 127. </p><p>Which meant he was free of Donghyuck.</p><p>Of course, nothing was that black-and-white. There was what was, and there was what Mark wanted, and those two things rarely aligned. That was the reason he was even in this situation.</p><p>Still.</p><p>127 was the superior dormitory. After all, his teammates were here: Taeyong, trackstar who half-willingly moonlighted as a local god; Johnny, with the ruthless yet loving harassment of an older brother. All of the boys had shown Mark the ropes, and now his game of extreme tug-of-war had changed tides. Whatever that meant. What a delight it was to be Mark Lee.</p><p>“Can you shut the door?” Johnny asked, standing and tossing the gameboy onto his bed. Mark did so, switching the radio off as he went. He then proceeded to sit down and watch Johnny slip out of his clothes and carefully redress in front of the mirror. He wore a baby blue tee that hung loose and oversized over baggy lightwash jeans, and a thin silver necklace hung just below his collarbones. He was definitely the most fashionable person Mark knew, and he respected and acknowledged this, however,</p><p>”What are you doing?” Mark asked, staring up at him, cheek resting on the back of the couch.</p><p>Johnny blinked at him in the mirror. ”Getting dressed.”</p><p>”I know, but why? It’s, like, 9 and we have practice in the morning.”</p><p>Johnny smirked, rolled his eyes. “As if you need it. You have the best surges on the entire team. You work super hard. Just take a night off. Plus, tonight’s the Spring concert, remember?”</p><p>Mark did remember.</p><p>Every Spring, their college hosted a concert for local-sometimes national—talent. It wasn’t a competition, but an achievement, and any band who wanted attention would be performing on that stage. Mark had performed on that stage last year and the year before. Hell, he slept with his guitar next to his bed. He glanced at it, chewing on his bottom lip.</p><p>“I can’t go. I got so much homework.” he lied. Johnny had turned back toward the mirror, and then he went for his shoes. Mark watched him fumble around beneath the dorm’s dim lighting, and then he straightened.</p><p>”I know what you’re thinking, but I think you should come anyway. I know watching is not the same as performing, but it will still be fun. I really think you should come. Really really. It’s mostly over, anyway.” Johnny told him, and Mark made a face. It wasn’t that Johnny was particularly persuasive—well, he was, but Mark was fairly immune—it was that he was right. It would be fun, and Mark was a junior, he only had so many Spring concerts left. </p><p>Which was why he should have been on the stage, not in the audience.</p><p>Groaning, he got up and slid a gray hoodie over his head. Johnny smiled at him, and he laughed despite himself, albeit a bit nervously.</p><p>”What?” he demanded, but there was no force behind it.</p><p>”It’s gonna turn into a trauma if you keep avoiding it like this.” Johnny grabbed his dorm key and pocketed his wallet, and Mark traded his glasses for contacts.</p><p>”Dude, come on, it’s not going to turn into a trauma. That’s not even how it works.” Mark laughed it off, but Johnny had a point. He couldn’t avoid it forever, couldn’t avoid Donghyuck forever. “I just don’t know what to say to him. To any of them.”</p><p>By way of answer, Johnny wrapped an arm around Mark’s neck and squeezed, half embrace half chokehold. Mark laughed forreal this time, smacking Johnny’s forearm as he was manhandled toward the door. Just like that, he knew tonight was going to be a good night.</p><p>The hall was better lit than the dorm rooms. The walls were paneled with glossy, aged wood, and abode it a faded green wallpaper patterned the lengths of the hall. The common area on this floor was nothing short of a small lounge: couches, games, a boxy TV that rarely received a working signal. A few boys hung around a pool table. A handful of others were lined up against the wall, all studying something or the other. There were boys with CD players, some with cigarettes. As another boy finished up on the phone, someone was waiting there to take his place.</p><p>”Is anyone else coming?” Mark asked as they stepped into the stairwell, narrowly avoiding being rammed by the heavy door. </p><p>Johnny checked his watch. “They’re already there. I think Taeyong went, Jaehyun said he wanted to go, Doyoung’s definitely went.”</p><p>”Sweet.” Mark slid his hood on, shaking his head a bit until it fell where he wanted it to. Korea’s winters were unforgiving, and they spared Spring no offense—not, at least, in the season’s early months. There was still a bitterness in the air: the gust of wind that chilled the tiniest sliver of skin; the dry, light air. The cold reminded Mark of home, but the way the temperature could turn a freezing day into a dewy Spring one was something he’d gotten used to.</p><p>The campus was always busy, but tonight it was teeming with students. The music could be heard all across the campus. Cars were parked and double-parked: flashy little Japanese-made things with high spoilers and low frames, or businesslike sedans and coupes. What interested Mark was the influx of vans and trucks, because he knew that within and beneath every tarp, hard cover, and trailer, there had to be instruments and equipment. Backstage, he and Donghyuck and the rest of Dream used to play a game: they would talk about the vehicles they had seen, choose a performer, and refer to them amongst themselves as that vehicle. It was one of the less ridiculous things they’d done to take the edge off, to soothe the nerves. Tonight, Mark was nervous for the inverse reason.</p><p>He’d spent the last few months diligently—adamantly— reminded himself that relationships were a two-way street, that some differences just couldn’t be settled. He may have walked away from the band, but they hadn’t encouraged him to stay. Correction: Donghyuck hadn’t encouraged him to stay. Mark didn’t blame anyone for what had happened, but it was Donghyuck who he thought of first, when he thought of it. Donghyuck, his roommate, his bandmate. Donghyuck, his best friend, his partner in crime, the funniest guy he knew. Donghyuck, the guy who pissed him off more than anyone in the world.</p><p>”Dude, I think this is a bad idea after all.” Mark said, slowing his gait, but Johnny grabbed him by the shoulder again, shaking his head.</p><p>”No it isn’t. Look, the concert already started. Dream probably performed already and you’re worried for nothing.” the words seemed to come so easy, and Johnny seemed to believe them, so why couldn’t Mark?</p><p>They showed their student ID’s at the booth in front of the field, and Mark struggled to put his card back into his wallet as the student volunteer working the booth stared him down.</p><p>”Hey, I know you. Aren’t you Mark? From that band, what was it? Dream?” she said, brow raised.</p><p>Mark could feel Johnny’s eyes on him as he stuttered, “Well, that’s... the thing is...”</p><p>”Excuse us, but we’re meeting some people. Running late.” Johnny interjected. Sweet savior Johnny, polite enough that it hurt, Mark watched him with stars in his eyes just then. He bowed a shallow, chaste goodbye to the student as he tailed Johnny through the crowd.</p><p>Finding Jaehyun was easy when all they had to do was keep an eye out for his flushed ears. He was near the front, and moving forward still. He exchanged a greeting with Johnny, grinning at them as if he’d been told a joke.</p><p>”Hey, you seen anyone else?” Mark asked, tightening the strings of his hoodie so that his face was somewhat suffocated. He loosened it and did it again, mind wandering as he stared toward the stage. Some girl group was performing a rock song, and it was loud. Jaehyun repeated his answer twice, because Mark missed it the first time.</p><p>”Yeah, Taeyong’s near the front with Doyoung.” Jaehyun paused, exchanged a look with Johnny, and said, “I saw Dream, too. They were getting ready to perform, looks like.” He said everything so pleasantly that, for a moment, Mark forgot that this information was supposed to terrorize him. He groaned.</p><p>“Let’s get this over with.” he said, starting through the crowd himself, with the boys chatting steadily behind him. He spotted Taeyong first, and then Doyoung, obsidian-haired twins dressed in clothes just as dark. They stood near the stage at the barricade, seemingly engaged in heated conversation that ended in Taeyong rolling his eyes and smacking Doyoung’s hands away. However, not seconds later, Taeyong was resting a head on Doyoung’s shoulder. Their eyes lit up when they saw the three boys approaching.</p><p>”Mark, you actually came.” Taeyong said, amused by Mark’s face, and he wondered how dreadful he actually looked. Laughing, Mark wondered if he was the topic of conversation very often among the team. Judging by the looks going around the group right now, he had a pretty good idea.</p><p>”Of course he came. Mark loves these kinds of things.” Doyoung told them, as if they didn’t already know. </p><p>Mark may have been anxious, but having all of them here with him made it bearable. He may have been nervous, but as they all talked, he could forget for a moment. He could pretend that this wasn’t as important to him as it was, and stop feeling ridiculously torn up over it. He was back to his usual never-ending laughter, of stupid but genuine comments that garnered reaction more than anything. Things were alright after all, and the minutes went by as the performers trekked on. The night loudened, froze, and eventually quieted, but that stillness was assassinated all at once by the sound of a voice.</p><p>A particularly high, deviously sweet voice.</p><p>”I’m Haechan and this is Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin. You might know us as Dream?” Donghyuck said, and Mark gripped the barricade. Donghyuck looked a bit leaner, his gaze was intense and intimate as he searched the crowd. He stood with a hand on the microphone, a tiny smirk on his lips. Then he smiled wide, cracked a joke that Mark couldn’t focus on. The crowd battled between cheering and laughing, a deafening response to Mark’s headache personified. Donghyuck.</p><p>Mark was helpless as the performance began: Donghyuck on lead vocals as always, Jaemin on the keys, Jeno on the drums, and Renjun on bass vocals. The vocals were split among them in ways that highlighted their strengths—something Mark knew from experience. In Donghyuck’s hands was a guitar—Mark’s guitar—and the way his fingers moved, it was as if he were caressing a dear friend. Mark was hypnotized, the crowd was hypnotized, and the song they performed was one of melodic chaos. It was also one that Mark had never heard before.</p><p>The group was dressed in a cohesive black-and-white ensemble, but their accessories varied: some goggles atop Jaemin’s head, wild streaks of color in Donghyuck’s hair. Jeno was overwhelmingly blond. Unsurprisingly, Mark turned to see a few bright balloons go up in the crowd, as well as handmade fan signs. Dream wasn’t extremely famous nationally, but locally, they were legends. They were well on their way to stardom, and the crowd’s response proved it. And why not, with political and economic tensions waxing and waning at the penultimate year of the century. The students needed something fun to hold onto, maybe, and Dream could be that. Even if only for a few hours.</p><p>Even if only for a single song.</p><p>It was over faster than Mark should have liked, and he clapped right along his teammates, if not a bit sullenly. Johnny rubbed his back, and then the rest of the boys started teasing until he laughed. Nevertheless, he had done it, he’d made it through the performance. Now that he had, it seemed stupid to worry over to begin with. </p><p>The next band didn’t immediately take the stage, and Donghyuck began to sing again without warning this time. It was an encore, but this time, they performed a song Mark knew well. He had written most of it. It was Jaemin who covered Mark’s verse, and he did so skillfully.</p><p>It was as if Mark had never been there.</p><p>They didn’t need him, and they never had.</p><p>That was what made him anxious about tonight. The irreparable damages between them aside, he could forgive. Hell, they could have replaced him, even. They had simply gone on without him, and he was as proud as he was hurt over it.</p><p>He turned to go, weaving through the crowd despite Doyoung calling out to him. He didn’t make it far before he hesitated, surrounded by strangers. The music had stopped, and following microphone interference was a ghostly silence. </p><p>Then, someone screamed, shrill and starkly terrified.</p><p>Because one person had, a few more began to, and at once the mass of gathered bodies seemed to swell and darken. Mark could see Donghyuck still on the stage, pointing toward the front of the crowd, at the barricade. There was another scream, and Mark considered leaving, but then he remembered: his teammates were up there.</p><p>He heard someone yell, “Fight!” as he pushed his way back to the front. He spotted a group of boys, nine or so quick dark silhouettes that came into focus the closer he got. Again came a scream, and then people were running.</p><p>Which was fine, except the field was packed. It was a bit of untimely miscommunication, really: Mark had caught the end of the conflict. The fight was over, it was just that no one at the back of the crowd could see what was going on. The battle was won, but the message had not yet breached the far reaches of the army of students. So, people thought they were running, but they weren’t.</p><p>They were stampeding.</p><p>Which was also fine, except for the fact that Mark spotted Doyoung then. He was shoving a boy off of Taeyong, who lay on the ground. Taeyong was trying to sit up, his nose bloodied, and the way he was blinking worried Mark: harshly, slowly, like a broken doll. There was a rapid river of people between Mark and his teammates, but he dove through. Someone slammed into him, knocking the wind from his lungs, and he pressed forward despite the dizziness it caused. He saw Jaehyun, he saw Johnny and Doyoung, but Taeyong had not gotten up.</p><p>”What happened? What happened?” Mark demanded of who he reached first: Johnny. His roommate’s face was flushed, a shallow cut scoring the skin just below his left cheekbone.</p><p>”I don’t know, some guys just started throwing punches. Taeyong fell when people started running.” Johnny’s voice was gravelly, roughened more by his anger than the conflict, and as people cleared out, at last Mark spotted Taeyong. Doyoung had gotten him to his feet after all, but he could barely stand.</p><p>”My ankle.” Taeyong said, but it was too dark for any of them to really see. Doyoung’s glare was scalding, even if it wasn’t meant for Mark, and Jaehyun went to Taeyong’s other side to support him.</p><p>”We should take him to a hospital.” Doyoung said, and Taeyong argued with him, but it didn’t last long this time. Johnny trailed behind, and Mark behind him, but he stopped when he heard his name called.</p><p>”Mark! Are you okay?” It was Jeno, but Mark had spotted Jaemin first. Then Renjun, and finally Donghyuck, they approached him slowly as if he were a cornered animal, as if he were painted with a sign that read, careful, this one bites! Mark slid his hood from his head, and he saw Donghyuck’s gaze skim the words printed on the front of his hoodie: the college name, and the words ‘cross country.’ Donghyuck met his eyes. Mark hadn’t answered, so Jeno repeated the question.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m fine, Taeyong just got hurt. Did you see what happened?” Mark answered finally, hands clasped on the top of his head. He glanced behind him to see Johnny waiting for him, jerking his head for Mark to hurry.</p><p>”We saw everything. What did Taeyong do?” Donghyuck asked, a bit too accusatory for Mark’s liking. He scoffed.</p><p>”Who says he did anything? It was an accident. He’s a good guy.” Mark said, a bit too defensive for his own liking. His response had been haplessly instigating, and he hadn’t intended it.</p><p>”Because none of your team can do any wrong, right?” Donghyuck scoffed right back, rolling his eyes. He had said it as casually as he said anything, but venom coursed beneath.</p><p>”Why do you want them to so badly?” Mark returned, just as coldly.</p><p>“Since when do you know about what I want?” Donghyuck’s voice had lowered now, and Renjun scolded him quietly but ineffectively. “Why don’t you go. They’re waiting for you.” Mark stood, hands still on his head feeling very dumb and very tired.</p><p>”Glad you’re okay.” Jeno offered a bit weakly, hands pocketed. Mark nodded, mumbling a quiet agreement, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Johnny, slightly out of breath.</p><p>”One of the bands offered us a ride to the hospital, we gotta go.” Johnny greeted Dream, and they greeted him, but it was an empty exchange. Johnny was here for Mark and Mark alone.</p><p>”I gotta go, I’ll see you guys later.” Mark said, glancing at Donghyuck, who toed the ground with his sneaker. Without looking up he said, </p><p>“Hope your track star is okay.”</p><p>As Mark turned to jog after Johnny toward the field’s entrance, he could only hope for the same. Maybe this would be his last Spring concert after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. callus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He had spent all winter compartmentalizing the two halves of his life--sports and music--and now here both of them were, looking him in the face.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gray sneakers met burgundy asphalt to the beat of Mark’s favorite song, and he knew he was alive because he could feel his heart beating against his chest. Night had bled into morning hours ago, and Taeyong’s ankle was still broken. It hadn’t clicked for Mark, at first, mostly because he had slept odd hours. All the events of the previous night blended into today like one big, horrifying slideshow: Taeyong on the ground, Johnny’s gameboy, and most importantly:</p><p>Hope your track star’s okay.</p><p>Fuck. Maybe not that important.</p><p>Mark had spent the night in the hospital along with the rest of the boys who’d been there during the festival. Gradually they had all left, replaced by other members of the team: Jungwoo, who had cried; Taeil, who had sworn revenge. No one knew how the fight had broken out. It was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now Taeyong couldn’t walk. Fussing over it wouldn’t fix the problem, and neither would being cooped up in that hospital room. Doyoung had stayed with Taeyong anyway, and Mark had needed the air. He’d needed to run, to get it out of his system. Only two things could help him unwind something this heavy: running, and music.</p><p>Except, Mark hadn’t strummed his guitar in months. He only had the one--the rest he’d left with Dream. It was beautiful: the smooth curves of nato wood, the polished cedar body. It had been Mark’s first full-sized guitar. Over the months, he’d tuned and dusted it no problem. Only when it came to instinct, to moving his fingers the way he knew so well, he froze up. He would put the guitar down, and go for a run instead. He would go until his lungs burned, his calves trembled beneath the might of all his problems. He didn’t run away from his troubles, but with them, carrying them across their respective finish lines. Problems like what to wear on the first day of class, or missing the way Jaemin’s laughter filtered in from beneath Jeno’s door. Problems like passing history 237 and playing that guitar that Donghyuck had bought for him.</p><p>He’d left the hospital with Johnny at about seven in the morning. Practice was cancelled considering a good number of the team had been present last night, but Mark couldn’t sit still. Back at the dorm he’d showered, snacked, and slept through most of his classes without an ounce of guilt. He would talk with his professors when he saw them, as well as his coach. Later, he would head back to the hospital. First, he just needed to clear his head. </p><p>He’d rounded the track four times before he noticed that someone stood at the entrance. He had his glasses on, but still he squinted behind the round wire-frames. The figure had shifted to face him properly, and Mark expected Johnny before remembering his roommate had late afternoon classes. So that left the entire rest of the team, except no one came to the track on off days. Mark had expected anyone but Renjun, who nodded in greeting as he saw Mark approaching.</p><p>“Training for the Asiad? Might be a little early for that.” Renjun called, and Mark chuckled.</p><p>“No, I just, uh…” Mark was slightly out of breath, and he stood with his hands on his hips as he tried to catch it. “One of my teammates got injured at the festival last night.”</p><p>“Oh. Is it bad?”</p><p>“He broke his ankle. For us, that’s as good as dead.”</p><p>“Ah… was it Taeyong?”</p><p>Mark didn’t know why it surprised him to hear Taeyong’s name coming from Renjun’s mouth. He had spent all winter compartmentalizing the two halves of his life--sports and music--and now here both of them were, looking him in the face. Apart from his personal afflictions, he reminded himself that Taeyong was the team’s ace. Of course Renjun would know him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mark said, “Taeyong.” </p><p>He took off his glasses to wipe sweat out of his eyes. As he did so, he noticed the importunate glances Renjun casted behind him. Which reminded Mark, he’d probably come for a reason.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” he asked, and Renjun nodded quickly.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re just late.”</p><p>“Late?” Mark echoed instinctively, stupidly, and Renjun rewarded him with a grin.</p><p>“Late, for the toy drive? You and Donghyuck signed up for delivery together. Remember?” His smile widened, rueful and shameless all at once.</p><p>Mark did, indeed, remember.</p><p>“Oh, shit, that’s today.” he said, eyes wide.</p><p>The toy drive.</p><p>Every campus event—from concerts to art sales, bake sales, and car washes—were treated as fundraisers. The day after the last major event of the year was reserved for the annual toy drive, where students were responsible for organizing, collecting, and distributing toys to children in the city. These toys were donated, or bought with some of the proceeds from the previous semester’s events—a way to secure each year’s finances in advance, and also to allow time for planning. This year, the drive fell on the day after the spring concert, so Dream had signed up together. Which meant Mark had signed up with them.</p><p>He glanced at his watch. It was a little after five. The toy drive had begun at eight that morning.</p><p>“Oh, shit.” Mark whispered again, laughing nervously.</p><p>“‘Oh, shit.’” Renjun echoed, a hand on his shoulder as he led him through the gates that led to the track. “Uh, Mark? Maybe you should shower first? We’re meeting in the parking lot of the Sciences building. You know the one?”</p><p>Mark knew the one.</p><p>Not twenty minutes later, he was jogging down the hill where the road curved into the Sciences building's parking lot. There were two cars left by the curb, and one pulled away with the trunk tied shut. Outside, a pile of trash bags were stacked, and a duo of students were struggling with a few more bags.</p><p>Mark went up the shallow staircase and up to the door, which suddenly swung out with no warning. The door struck him, and then something bounced off of his head and onto the ground beside him. He looked up just in time to see the rest of the over-stacked pile of wrapped gifts tilt and then tumble, as well as the person who’d been hidden behind the pile.</p><p>Donghyuck.</p><p>Mark turned to the stairs, where a few of the gifts tumbled before finding their final resting place on the scuffed steps.</p><p>“Mark!” Donghyuck cried, exasperated as he set down the pile of gifts. “First you’re late, and then you knock everything over.” </p><p>He was good at complaining, and Mark had anticipated it and he only laughed, which he knew didn’t make anything better but it didn’t make anything worse, either and he couldn’t—</p><p>“Sorry.” Mark said. “Why are you trying to carry so much, anyway? And you whacked me with the door.” he began to pick up the gifts closest to him, shaking the boxes to check for damage.</p><p>Muttering to himself and shaking his head, Donghyuck took the gifts that had survived the impact down to the car before returning for the others. For anyone else, Mark could understand how easy it would be to misinterpret Donghyuck’s moods. He was angry with Mark, as always these days, but not because of this. His frown was fraudulent, his scolding had no real weight behind it. Often, his words and actions contradicted each other in a way that was either extremely hilarious or extremely annoying. All things considered, Mark thought him to be in a good mood today. </p><p>At least, he had been before Mark had showed up.</p><p>He was hard to understand sometimes, but Mark understood Donghyuck a little too well.</p><p>He grabbed as many of the boxes as he could, carrying them down to the car and stacking them neatly in the backseat. What couldn’t fit there, he closed into the trunk.</p><p>“That everything?” he asked Donghyuck over the hood of the car.</p><p>“Yes, that’s everything.” Donghyuck said a bit mockingly. “You missed all the real work. I’m driving, you’re on delivery.” and he got into the car without another word. </p><p>ꟿꟿꟿ</p><p>By the third delivery, Mark was ready to tuck and roll. On the way to the first address, Donghyuck had turned the radio too loud and sang along even louder. The only one happier than him for that first hour was the little girl they’d been making the delivery to. She’d wrapped her arms around Mark’s legs the moment her mother had opened the door.</p><p>On the way to the second address, Donghyuck had turned down the music to talk to himself, dutifully ignoring Mark’s attempts at small talk. By the setting of the sun (and, Mark acknowledged sadly, the passing of dinner), Mark was ready to be done. To get out. Deliveries be damned, he wouldn’t stay another second in that car. Then, Donghyuck’s CD player had skipped around and landed on a Dream song. It was one of, if not the very first song they’d recorded as a band.</p><p>Mark laughed, and Donghyuck turned the volume back up a bit.</p><p>“What?” Donghyuck demanded. “Never heard the voice of an angel? Apologize to me right now.”</p><p>“Dude… your voice was so high.” Mark said, resuming his laughter as if he’d ever stopped.</p><p>“So was yours. ‘Stick to me like gum, you’re so addicting~.’” </p><p>Donghyuck’s impression was terrible, and Mark smacked his shoulder as he laughed. As they went through the rest of the CD poking fun at the members, Mark could almost forget that they hadn’t spoken to each other in months. Almost, because Donghyuck would never let him forget.</p><p>“How’s your track star?”<br/>
“He’s got a broken ankle. And his name’s Taeyong.”</p><p>Donghyuck rolled his eyes, signaled, merged lanes as if it would make the traffic disappear.</p><p>“It’s a shame about his ankle. Guess that means you’re up, huh?”</p><p>It was Mark’s turn to turn down the music. “What? What do you mean?” he asked.</p><p>“I just mean that since there’s a vacancy, and you ditched us to go run with him anyway, you might as well…”</p><p>Mark didn’t let him finish.</p><p>“Okay, first of all, I didn’t ditch you. You told me to go. Or do you leave that part out when you’re badmouthing me and my team?”</p><p>It was different, so different when Mark was faced with it. When his anger had a face, a name, a voice to yell back at him.</p><p>“No. Why would I leave it out? That’s the only time you bothered to listen to me.” Donghyuck snapped.</p><p>Mark twisted to look in the backseat. They were nowhere near finishing the deliveries. Not like this, not together, with words like poisoned arrows ready to fire. Traffic was barely moving as it was. Silence settled between them, and Mark didn’t bother to break it. </p><p>ꟿꟿꟿ</p><p>Neither of them went for the radio, and so for the next two hours, they continued like that. Like strangers. It was nearly nine, in the backseat, only a handful of gifts remained. They were on the other side of Seoul. Mark broke the silence and said, “We could head back. Finish tomorrow.”</p><p>“No,” Donghyuck said, “We have to finish tonight.”</p><p>“It’s getting late.”</p><p>“Are you afraid of the dark?”</p><p>“No,” Mark said, “but we’ve been at it for hours. Aren’t you tired? Could you at least pull over for a moment?”</p><p>Donghyuck sighed, glancing at him. He pulled into a gas station parking lot before sliding out. Mark did so too, stretching his legs. He rubbed his eyes, and nearly smudged his glasses. He had forgotten to put his contacts in after his rushed shower after Renjun had fetched him.</p><p>“Be careful, four-eyes.” Donghyuck made circles with his forefingers and thumbs, and looked at Mark through them as he leaned against the car.</p><p>“Dude, let’s get something to eat.” Mark suggested, ignoring him as he put his glasses back on his face.</p><p>“Sure. And after, we can go to a motel, but all they will have left is one bed so we’ll have to share. What is this, a movie?” Donghyuck said, and not ten minutes later they were back on the road. </p><p>The final delivery was quick, and Donghyuck stopped by a McDonald’s drive thru and placed the order he’d memorized long ago. Mark stared at him as they sat in the parking lot and ate.</p><p>“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. The toy drive.” Donghyuck told him around a mouthful of food, and Mark said,</p><p>“I can’t believe it, either.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I meant to finish this by Sunday the 20th because I like to hold myself to unrealistic standards. Myself and no one else. You know when you're writing something and it just doesn't feel right? That's this chapter, at first. Now it's fine. Now it's OKAY. Or is it? You tell me.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which Mark Lee is a track star but is no longer a star that tracks. May or may not be romance because I said I’d never write fanfic about real people but here I am. I deleted this once but now I’m posting it again. This is who 2020 has turned me into. This is gonna be cheesy, so don’t complain later on okay?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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